Fallen Empire 1: Star Nomad Read online

  Alejandro hesitated, then shook his head.

  She almost pressed him further, but the blip that represented the other ship moved. “They’re coming in to check us out more closely,” she announced. “Or, with luck, to land and try to board us.”

  “That’s what you consider lucky, is it?”

  “Hurry up, boys,” she muttered, her hand hovering over the external comm. She was about to warn them that they didn’t have much time, but the cyborg let go of the ledge then. He dropped forty feet, twisting in the air to land on his feet. He crouched deeply to absorb the impact of the landing, but anyone else would have broken both legs trying that move. “Must be nice to be able to do things like that,” she mumbled.

  “They give up much in exchange for their abilities,” Alejandro said dryly.

  The words made her think he might know a lot more about it than she did, but even if there had been more time, she wasn’t sure she would have asked for details. Cyborgs were the enemy. They had been long before the war had started, acting as tools of death for the empire, assassinating those who didn’t precisely obey imperial law. She had no wish to humanize them and think of them as anything except monsters to be avoided.

  A shadow fell across the canyon. The other ship coming in. To land, Alisa hoped. They could have fired from up above without dropping into the canyon.

  Beck and the cyborg raced up the ramp and showed up on the interior cameras in the cargo hold. Alisa flicked the switch to close the hatch, then moved her hand toward the buttons that would turn main power back on and raise the shields. She was tempted to hit them now, as the enemy ship lowered itself toward the ground, but that would register on their sensors. The Nomad couldn’t play dead in the water and have the shields up at the same time.

  Sweat dampened her palms. They could have withstood a few more blows with the shields up, but without them, that energy weapon would blast a hole in the hull and possibly kill them all.

  “He better be one damned amazing grill master,” Alisa said. She expected a feast if they got Beck out of this.

  “Pardon?” Alejandro asked.

  She shook her head. Beck could explain his story to the others later, assuming they survived this.

  The enemy ship came into view, a sleek black vessel with dozens of weapons protruding from the hull and a gun turret on the top. It hovered briefly, eyeing them.

  Alisa grimaced, wishing she had shoved the Nomad’s nose into the wall and brought down some rocks around them. They probably looked like they had landed instead of crashing. At the least, she should have had the cyborg kick some dirt onto the hull while he had been out there.

  “The explosives can be remotely detonated,” the cyborg said over the intercom. “Tell me when.”

  “I will,” Alisa said. Reminding herself that he hadn’t agreed to accept her as his captain and follow her orders, she made herself add a “Thank you.”

  She wasn’t surprised when she didn’t get a “You’re welcome” in return.

  The other ship landed. Ten feet away from the ledge.

  “Damn.” Alisa thumped her fist on the console. She had hoped they would creep under the ledge, and that she could bring it down on the ship as the Nomad flew away.

  “Now what?” Alejandro asked.

  She held up a hand, hoping…

  There. A hatch opened in the belly of the black ship, and a ramp lowered to the ground. Six men in combat armor followed by six more men in regular clothing came out. Judging by all the weapons they carried, both sets of men had raided their armory on the way out.

  “They really want you, Beck,” Alisa said.

  “But they’re not getting me. Right, Captain?” Beck responded from the cargo hold.

  “Let’s hope not. Got your rifle ready?”

  “Always.”

  The squad of men marched toward the Nomad’s hatch.

  “This is as good as it’s going to get,” Alisa said. “I hope it’s enough.”

  “Captain?” Beck asked.

  Alisa waited until all of the men had walked under the ledge and were passing beneath the bombs. “Now, Cyborg.”

  The explosives blew before she finished the words, the boom thunderous in the confined canyon. It was a good thing she had already been pounding the button to raise the shields. Power surged through the ship, the thrusters activating as she took them out as fast as she could. Huge boulders tumbled down from above, slamming to the ground around and on top of the White Dragon men. They slammed into the top of the Nomad, as well, a cacophony of bangs sounding as the shields deflected them.

  “Fly back over the other ship,” the cyborg ordered over the intercom, “and open the hatch.”

  “What?” Alisa balked more at the idea of opening the hatch while they were in the air than in doing whatever it was he had in mind.

  “Do it,” he ordered, his voice resonating with the authority of command.

  Alisa found herself obeying before she had time to debate whether she should obey or not. He must have a plan to take out the ship. It would keep them from being followed, but…

  She swallowed as she flew straight up, did a loop, and twisted to head back in the direction they had come from—it was the only way to turn around in the narrow canyon. She piloted toward the ship parked next to the destroyed ledge, the rocks crumbled atop the men down there. Those in combat armor might have survived. The rest would have been pulverized.

  An alarm sounded. The hatch opening. The cyborg had hit the button himself from down there. She could override it, but should she?

  The enemy ship hadn’t moved yet. Its pilot was probably staring in horror at the collapsed ledge, but any second, he would realize how vulnerable they were. He would pull their ramp in, shut their hatch, and power up the shields. That could be done in seconds.

  Realizing they would only get one chance, Alisa swooped down over the mafia ship. Her momentum took her past it quickly, and at first, she didn’t think that anything had happened. Maybe the cyborg had missed his opportunity.

  Then another alarm blared on her sensor panel, warning of an explosion right behind them. Her rear camera caught the inferno that lit up when the bomb blew right on top of the ship, its shields not up to deflect the power. Black smoke billowed, and chunks of the hull flew up and down the canyon, ricocheting off the rock walls.

  The ship was likely salvageable, but Alisa doubted it would be flying after them today.

  The alarm warning about the lowered ramp stopped going off. The cyborg had pulled it back in and secured the hatch. Alisa set a course into the nav system, more than ready to hand the piloting over to the computer. They shouldn’t need any fancy flying to escape the atmosphere.

  She slumped back in her seat, realization setting in. Enough of those people would survive to report back to their mafia bosses, to identify the ship that had attacked them—that had killed some of their people.

  They were criminals, and she didn’t believe that what she had done was morally wrong, but she did believe there would be repercussions for this choice.

  “We won the war,” she mumbled. “There were supposed to be parades. Instead, I got stuck on this dustball, and now the mafia is going to be after me.” She groaned and scrubbed her hands over her face. Taking on Beck had been a mistake. Not shoving him back out after she’d known about his troubles had been a bigger mistake.

  “Parades are for heroes,” Alejandro said. “There are no heroes in war. Just tools being used by one organization or another.”

  Alisa had forgotten he was there and regretted speaking aloud, but his words rankled. She turned toward him. “I dare you to say that in front of your cyborg buddy.”

  “I doubt he would disagree.”

  “Well, I do. I’m not a tool. I wasn’t brainwashed into joining the Alliance and fighting against the tyranny of the empire. I saw that tyranny firsthand. Security everywhere you looked. Supposedly to keep down the bad people, but just as surely oppressing and terrifying good imperial sub
jects. Subjects afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid they’d be made to disappear. I watched friends disappear when I was in college. Others spoke up and came back with half of their memories gone and a new personality. If you think we were tools to fight that, you’re the delusional one, Doctor, not me. The only semblance of freedom was for those who could take to the skies.” Alisa touched the console of the ship, of her mother’s ship. Mom had known that truth long before she had.

  “I simply meant that heroes find a way to change the world for the better without killing.” Alejandro walked out, leaving her alone in the cabin.

  Alisa preferred that because tears of frustration, or maybe tears of sorrow, were pricking her eyes. She had lost her husband, she was billions of miles from her daughter, and in the span of a week, her life had gone from confusing and frustrating to terrifying and ominous. She’d assumed that once she reached Perun, she could walk into her sister-in-law’s apartment and retrieve her daughter, but would that just be putting Jelena in danger? After this, the mafia would put a bounty out for the destruction of the Nomad—maybe for her death. She could be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.

  She dropped her face into her hands. All she wanted was to go home. Why couldn’t home be there, where she had left it?

  Chapter 6

  As the night cycle deepened, Alisa gazed at the old-fashioned photograph in her hand, the photo she had carried in her flight suit all through the war, the paper now creased and wrinkled. The picture was of her, Jonah, and Jelena, taken four and a half years ago, before the war and back when the universe had made sense. It hadn’t been an ideal universe, but it had been knowable. Understandable. The future was something different now, something uncertain and scary.

  She closed her eyes, retreating into the past.

  Alisa opened the door to the sound of giggling. She walked into the apartment, a bottle and a box cradled in her arms, her laundry in a bag over her shoulder, the clothes needing attention after her week flying her DropEx delivery route. When she glimpsed Jelena floating in the air on the other side of the couch, her arms outstretched like an airplane, she set her belongings down and walked over to investigate.

  Jonah lay on his back on the floor, his bare feet creating a shelf to prop their daughter up as he held her hands and gyrated his hips to give her a ride. Another round of giggles burst out as she swooped low over the coffee table.

  “Alisa,” Jonah said brightly, his eyes gleaming with good humor.

  “Mommy’s back!” Jelena blurted, wriggling on Jonah’s feet.

  “I’m back,” Alisa said, tamping down a grin and trying to look stern. “School starts next week. I thought you two were going to practice reading while I was gone.”

  “We’re taking a break. We’ve been working for hours.” Still flat on his back, as Jelena waved at him to make her swoop sideways again, Jonah fished under the couch, pushed a couple of toys aside, and produced a netdisc. “See? We still have a book open.”

  “Mmhm, and is it hard to read a book that’s under the couch?”

  “Not at all. Jelena has excellent eyes. The delights of youth.”

  Alisa’s grin slipped out, and she shook her head. “I got champagne and bonbons on the way home, so we can celebrate your promotion, Professor Chaikin.” She considered his position on the floor and how he appeared to be having as much fun as Jelena. “Perhaps juice bulbs and candy planets would have been more appropriate.”

  “Not at all. The champagne is very thoughtful, thank you.” Jonah lowered Jelena to the floor, his eyebrows rising as he looked toward the chocolate box. “Are you sure the bonbons were purchased with me in mind?”

  “Of course. You get the ones with the weird fillings that I don’t like.”

  Jelena ran around the couch and hugged Alisa’s legs. “Mommy, I was flying. Just like you. Did you see?”

  She reached down and picked Jelena up for a hug. “I did see. And if you had a few thousand tons of deliveries in your cargo hold, it would have been exactly like me.” Her tone must have sounded unintentionally wry, or perhaps bitter, because the humor faded from Jonah’s face.

  “You’re not feeling restless again, are you?” he asked, coming over to add his arms for a family hug. “Flying an airplane instead of a spaceship?”

  Alisa hesitated, but shook her head firmly and smiled. “Not at all. It’s bad enough being away for a week at a time. If I left for months, Jelena would never learn how to read.”

  Jonah snorted and kissed her, not denying it.

  Footsteps sounded on the deck outside of NavCom, and Alisa slid the photo back into its usual spot in her jacket pocket. Six months after that arrival home, the war had officially started, and the Alliance had sent out its recruiting flyers. Pilots had been in high demand. Even though she had loved spending time with her family, she had not hesitated long before signing up. She’d told herself—and Jonah—that she wanted to ensure a future of freedom and opportunities for Jelena, and she had genuinely believed that, but looking back, she realized she had also been eager for a chance to fly among the stars again. Jonah had understood, probably more than she had at the time.

  The hatch opened, and Alisa rested her hands on the controls, pretending to be doing something. It had been several days since they’d escaped their encounter with the White Dragon ship and left Dustor behind, and the first of the asteroids was now visible on the view screen. She truly would have to do something soon, but the cyborg had yet to give her directions beyond the Trajean Asteroid Belt.

  “You all right, Captain?” Mica asked, flopping down in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Fine. Why? There some trouble I should know about?”

  “Not really, but I think people are wondering if the captain shouldn’t be doing more captaining instead of hiding up here in navigation. Beck was asking if he should be doing something, too, and I’ve heard our two passengers rumbling a few times, wondering how long this delay will be and when we’ll be heading to Perun.”

  “You tell them to ask the cyborg?”

  “No.” Mica snorted. “You still don’t know his name?”

  “I don’t want to know his name.”

  If Alisa knew his name, she might have to stop thinking of him as the cyborg, and she didn’t know if she wanted to do that. He had been useful during the fight with the White Dragon ship, and he hadn’t caused any trouble yet. She almost wanted him to cause trouble, wanted him to live up to what she expected from a soldier in the Cyborg Corps. But he just kept to himself, staying in his cabin, not dissimilarly to the way she was staying in NavCom and ignoring the rest of the ship. She didn’t want to captain. She was far more comfortable piloting. Besides, did a crew of three need a captain? Mica seemed to get the job done without anyone telling her what to do, and Beck… well, she supposed she could find some work for him, but in truth, she had only hired him to be an extra gun if they ran into trouble.

  “The cute girl with the chickens is wondering when you’re going to collect the second half of her payment. She seems proud of whatever it is. I’m starting to get an inkling.”

  “Oh?” Alisa was about to ask for clarification on the payment but found her humor piqued and instead asked, “You think she’s cute?”

  “She’s a kook. She had the hatch to her cabin open this morning as I was walking by, and I heard this heavy breathing. My first thought was that she’d dragged Beck inside for a rousing round of sex, but she was just lying on her bed, making herself hyperventilate. She had some quirky drum and flute music going. When I asked what she was doing, she said, ‘experiencing euphoria’ and invited me to join her.” Mica made a disgusted face.

  “I don’t know how you turned down an offer like that. Especially from someone cute.”

  Mica sighed at her.

  “Her name is Yumi,” Alisa said. “That one I know, at least.”

  “Congratulations. There’s a smoky sweet smell wafting from her cabin now. Reminds me of the dorms at BKU on Arkadius. I’m
guessing your payment will come in the form of special herbs. Or perhaps in psychedelic mushrooms.”

  “Probably ones that she grew herself,” Alisa said, not fazed. Who was she to judge when she’d traded her prescription painkillers for a gun and chocolate? “With the help of chicken fertilizer.”

  Mica shifted toward the view of the asteroid belt. “Do you know where we’re going in there?”

  “No.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask?”

  “I was hoping the cyborg would come up here and tell me, so I wouldn’t have to go knocking on his hatch. I used to play house with my stuffed animals in that cabin he’s claimed. I don’t want to see what he’s done to it.”

  Mica grunted. “You played house?”

  “Well, I played ship and made the stuffed animals my crew. We battled smugglers and pirates together.”

  “And now you’re doing it in real life.”

  Alisa grimaced. “When I was six, and my stuffed crew and I defeated the bad people, vengeful friends of the bad people didn’t come after us later.”

  “Six-year-olds tend to be shortsighted.”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you go talk to the cyborg for me?”

  “No, thanks. You’re the captain.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d go if I ordered you to go?” Alisa asked.

  “Probably not. We’re not in the military anymore, and I doubt you’re going to fire me. Mostly because you’re not paying me.”

  “This is true.” Alisa flexed the tense muscles in her shoulders. She had been sitting up here for too long. “You going to stick with me after we make it to Perun? Or are you getting off there? I know we only talked about getting there, not what would happen after.”

  “I figured you’d reunite with your husband and kid and live happily ever after.” Mica frowned at her. “I’m not misremembering that, am I? I thought you mentioned a family back when we were on the Silver Striker.”